


Affliction of Mind

by Jastra



Category: SCP - Containment Breach, SCP Foundation
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, Gender neutral style, Horror, I don't know how to tag this, Multi, Murder, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Rated For Violence, Reader-Insert, SCP-714, Violence, some gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-10-14 17:03:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17512508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jastra/pseuds/Jastra
Summary: Working as an assistant to the Foundation's research team was like a dream come true. However, your pleasant dream quickly turns into nightmare after a fateful chat with SCP-049.Soon enough, you find yourself longing for escape.





	1. Offer

**Author's Note:**

> My first SCP foundation fic, please be gentle! I know there are errors. I've been listening to TheVolgun's youtube videos and just had to get this out of my system. 
> 
> This is based on the rewrite of SCP-049.

 

"Just get in, find the damn research papers and get out, it is as simple as that,” you mutter to yourself as you hurried through the corridors of the Foundation's research facility. Your destination? A specific containment unit, or more precisely the observation room adjacent to it. The facility staff you passed paid you no mind, after all you were just one of the countless assistants working for the doctors of the facility, helping them out in their research.

“I’ll be completely fine. He probably won't even notice me, after all I'm just a simple assistant and not worth his time,” you reassure yourself underneath your breath. _Yeah, unless you are afflicted by the pestilence_.

You get few amused glances from senior staff members who notice the slightly startled and anxious look in your eyes. They had probably seen that same look of dread on countless new comers' faces, after all, it was hard not to feel scared when entering an area with a dangerous SCP all alone. Your SCP in question? SCP-049, the plague doctor who sought to rid the world of the great pestilence, and who had killed doctor Hamm and turned him into SCP-049-2 instance.

After finishing your orientation lectures, you had quickly been assigned to this facility's research staff, working as an assistant underneath handful of doctors, Raymond Hamm included. For a good while, you had only dealt with objects classified as “Safe”, including objects like SCP-714, the jade ring. However, you had quickly gained clearances to assist in the euclid class research and shortly after that, SCP-049 had been brought in for containment and study.

You’d never forget the first time you had seen the humanoid, intelligent and extremely deadly entity working behind the reinforced glass window. Prior to taking part in the research of 049, you had only dealt with inanimate objects, even if some of them arguably seemed to have a will of their own. Still, seeing a living, dangerous SCP had been both fascinating and utterly intimidating.

What made 049 even more unsettling was how polite and well mannered he was for a being who killed and turned his victims into mindless zombie like creatures. He looked and talked like a human, yet there was something very uncanny about him.

Despite trying to be diligent, at times you had found yourself staring at the doctor's work and whenever he spoke, you couldn't help but listen to that soft voice somewhat mesmerized.

You soon find yourself standing in front of a heavy metal door that led in to the observation room. You brace yourself and take few deep breaths before swiping your security card through the reader beside the door. The panel reads “access granted” and the door slides silently open, allowing you to enter the observation room.

“ _Remember, you are not authorized to speak or interact with SCP-049 in any way. Besides, he’ll most likely just rave about you being sick, infected by this so called “pestilence”. Just get my stuff and get back here,”_ the doctor had told you. Not only was the said doctor rude and full of himself, but he also held little to no respect towards the beings the foundation had contained at the research site. At times you really missed doctor Hamm who had not treated you like his personal slave.

You step inside the dark room with one wall made partly from reinforced glass, behind which lied the plague doctor's containment cell. The door closes automatically behind you shortly after you enter, sealing you inside the dark observation room.

Your heart starts to beat slightly faster and you can feel the familiar touch of dread take hold of you. It is so quiet, with only the humming of the machinery and sound of someone writing on a paper chasing away the unbearable silence.

You can not help but gaze into the containment unit before turning on the lights, and as expected, you see the euclid class being safely inside his cell.

The masked plague doctor was sitting at a metal desk with his heavy medical journal resting on the table. The SCP was reading through his research notes, writing down a remark or two in the margin of the paper every now and then. Apparently the Foundation had been kind enough to let him keep his journals.

 _At least he has something to read,_ you think, feeling almost bad for the dangerous plague doctor who could not work on his “cure” that was his life's work. Though, considering how he had expressed his desire to use living humans as test subjects, perhaps it was for the best. Still, it was not hard to feel some sympathy towards the creature who genuinely seemed to want to help others.

You sigh in relief when the SCP either doesn't notice your presence, or just doesn't care.

 _I better hurry before I get criticized for taking too long_ , you ponder before sneaking quietly over to the huge desk that was resting against the back wall and the windowed wall besides it.

You don’t notice how the SCP-049 suddenly halts writing, lifting his gaze slowly up from his journal. He slowly turns his masked face towards you and tilts his head ever so slightly to the side when he sees you skulking through the dimly lit observation room to rummage through the papers and the numerous drawers. The doctor stands up without making a sound and starts heading towards the window.

You can't help but sigh wearily as you skim through some of the more recent research papers considering 049. Lately, only few researchers had done interviews with the plague doctor and it really started to look like the research had hit a wall. It was starting to become clear there wasn't much more they could learn about the plague doctor and resources were being pulled from the study and put in better use.

It really started to look like 049 was going to be held in containment indefinitely.

There had been reports of strange activity in the vicinity of one facility with a suspicion of a Keter class being residing somewhere in the area. All able personnel had been pulled into the search and study of it, leaving many SCP's with minimal monitoring. The thought of something like that being transported here was most unnerving.

“Where is that flash drive?? Is he certain he left it here?” you mutter again as you continue your search, not noticing the approaching figure whose long and dark shadow soon enough looms over you.

“There you are,” you whisper victoriously when you finally find the flash drive and the file you had been sent to retrieve , allowing you finally to leave the observation room and return to that slave driver doctor.

However, just when you are about to turn around and leave, you hear eerie familiar voice say.

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”

You freeze, finally noticing the tall shadowy figure that was standing on the other side of the window, his dark shadow cast over your form. Paralyzing fear takes hold of your body as you slowly lift your gaze up from the research papers to see the black robed SCP with a white mask towering over you, his eyes fixated on your’s.

For a fleeting moment, you completely forget that he can’t touch you through the glass and get startled, quickly backing away a couple of steps with shocked look on your face. Somehow you manage to maintain your balance and contain the small scream of terror that almost escapes your lips.

The plague doctor seemed rather amused by your reaction, eying you up and down curiously.

“Ah, I startled you, my apologies, it was not my intention,” SCP-049 said, his voice calm and tone most polite.

When you realize that you are not in danger, you quickly regain your composure and try to relax a bit, despite it feeling like your heart was about to burst out of your chest.

 _I should just go,_ you think, looking around the room in rather unsure manner; most likely your conversation was being filmed by at least one security camera.

The doctor's words about you not being authorized to talk with 049 echoed in your mind, but it felt just so rude to leave without at least greeting him. Despite being a dangerous euclid class SCP, the plague doctor was still a sentient and intelligent being who could be so reasonable and cordial when not in the presence of pestilence.

 _Does he ever get lonely?_ Most likely not, but one couldn’t help but feel some sympathy towards the creature who had been denied his freedom and work.

After a moment of hesitation, you take few steps closer towards the SCP who patiently waited for you to decide your next course of action.

Even with the reinforced glass between you and the doctor, you couldn’t shake off the aura of intimidation and eeriness the SCP had around him. He was uncanny and you couldn't help but wonder if he had face at all underneath that mask.

“It...it is alright, you just move so quietly,” you reply softly and pocket the flash drive before picking up the file containing the requested research papers. “I’m not sure introductions are needed, I'm just an assistant to the doctors and the senior researchers in this facility.”

The plague doctor like SCP studies you long and hard, as if trying to remember something.

“I do recall seeing you among the researchers, you....ah yes, now I remember. You were doctor Hamm’s assistant,” 049 says and the fact that he remembered you made a shiver run down your spine.

It felt extremely eerie to have an SCP you had never before spoken to recall you, especially when half of the doctors you worked for couldn't even remember your name. Hell, some of the researchers didn't have any recollection of ever meeting you, despite having talked with them more than twice. While you knew they were occupied with things like Keter level dangers, it was still very infuriating to be someone not worth remembering.

“Always working so diligently and not gawking at or criticizing my work like the rest of them just because you can't fully comprehend the nature of the great pestilence...Yes, most professional.”

You swallow and nod at SCP-049. You knew it was in your best interest to just leave, but...your legs refused to move, as if they were rooted to the floor. The intrigue was slowly getting stronger than the dread that still lingered with you.

For some reason you can't help but recall how you had one time spotted the deadly SCP watching you from behind the glass with a scalpel in his hand, distracted by something in you while working on a dead animal.

Perhaps it was how you had once tried to reason with some senior research staff members who had expressed their strong opinions about the doctor's cure while observing his work. You recall asking them if the pestilence could be something modern medicine couldn't pick up yet, but they had just laughed at you, telling you how “cute” it was of you to think there was some rhyme or reason to the SCP's work when there was none to be found.

_Did he hear that conversation?_

“Yes, I did work for Dr. Hamm until...” you pause, trying to find the right words.

From all the interviews you had learned that accusing the plague doctor of killing someone was of no use. He had been absolutely convinced Dr. Hamm had fallen to the pestilence and thus his actions had been justified.

049's determination and unwavering belief in the pestilence was almost enough to leave one convinced that there had really been something wrong with the now deceased man, despite all evidence showing otherwise. For a while, you too had found yourself wondering whether you were afflicted by this insidious sickness.

“Until he got sick with pestilence and you cured him,” you finish and somehow, you can swear you can see the SCP’s eyes light up slightly behind the mask. He seemed rather pleased by your answer.

Everyone else just accused him of murdering a perfectly healthy man, so it had to be refreshing to meet someone who at least seemingly agreed with him. They were unable to see see that what he had done had been mercy. They...they had not seen how sick Dr.Hamm had become, how much he had suffered.

“A like minded individual, I knew you'd be,” the doctor replied, his voice so soft and calm; so very mesmerizing. “Yes, it is most unfortunate when a fellow colleague falls to the disease, but one must be swift and act without hesitation in the presence of this disease. It is an insidious thing...infiltrating even a place as clean as this,” SCP-049 explained and gestured with his hand towards the walls. “I eagerly wait for the day this foundation will let me resume my research, for the day they open their eyes to that which ails so many.”

“I fear that day might not come soon, after all your allowances were revoked indefinitely,” you find yourself saying, only to ponder your next choice of words for a moment. Perhaps a more positive and affirmative approach could yield better results with the doctor. “Unfortunately, I don’t think the Foundation understands the danger nor the nature of the pestilence. I’m sorry to say that even I don’t detect the sickness. I really wish I could, especially if it festers within these walls.”

The doctor stares at you, as if lost in his thoughts for a moment, tapping the beak of his mask a couple of times ponderously. He seemed rather intrigued by you, which in turn quickly makes you regret this approach.

“No, their inability to see the sickness that has taken root in this place is most vexing. In their short sightedness, they declare my cure as evil, just because they can't comprehend my work,” he says, sounding rather annoyed now, raising his voice ever so slightly as the anger got the better of him, only to calm down again when he sees you listening to his every word. “But...I am a professional and can admit my mistakes. I clearly haven't done my best to educate the Foundation, a mistake I'd like to correct. Unlike the rest of them, you are a person of science, not emotion. I’ve seen it, your determination in the face of this great affliction. Yes, there is still so much I can do. “

You can feel the fear and anxiety take a firm grip of your heart and mind, making it slightly harder for you to breathe. You didn't like where this was going one bit, but you found yourself unable to leave. Hell, you can't even break the eye contact despite wanting to.

“What exactly do you mean?” you ask, voice barely more than a whisper.

 _I need to leave, now,_ is all you can think, but somehow you just knew it was too late for that. There was no doubt someone was watching this _._

The SCP-049 lets out a small and amused chuckle, tapping the glass with his finger a couple of times, the sound echoing eerily off the walls of the containment room.

“When I cured doctor Hamm. While the rest of these so called “doctors” denied my cure and disposed of my patient, you chose to watch and learn...staying calm and collected the whole time, studying and observing,” the SCP 049 whispered, his voice and words sending a shiver down your spine. “ If I could resume my work, I could help you truly understand the nature of the great pestilence. It needs to be cured and eradicated from the face of this world.”

Oh how wrong the plague doctor was.

You had been anything but calm and collected. That day you had been in utter state of shock and panic, unable to do anything because of the fear that had overwhelmed you.

You had been with the group that had found SCP-049 working on doctor Hamm who by then had been turned into a mindless creature. It had been such a horrifying and traumatizing sight, one you'd never be able to forget (though you had not tried amnestics yet). You recall how the doctor's bloody and partly mutilated reanimated body had flailed and groaned mindlessly on the medical table, stopping only when the security put a bullet into his head.

You had lifted your gaze from Hamm's now still corpse to see 049 staring at you intensely, studying your every reaction and expression, clearly curious and intrigued.

Those eyes behind the mask...they had given you nightmares for a week and had left you wondering if you had been afflicted by the pestilence, if he wanted to cure you as well. The flood of emotions varying from fear and sorrow to despair and anger had hit you only after returning to the staff quarters.

“I’m afraid I must decline your offer. I am simply not the right person,” you whisper politely but the SCP just seems amused by your reply, glancing at the video camera mounted on the corner of his containment room. He knew they were watching the exchange and his eyes gained a hint of smugness and even malice to them.

“Oh, do not worry about that. I don't think it is your decision. That is why I invite only you to learn and study, to see the pestilence...as my assistant, to see first hand what the affliction does to body and mind,” he said before leaning slightly closer to the glass, staring into your eyes that now reflect the terror you feel. “It would be such a shame to let that intrigue go to waste, don't you think?

* * *

Apparently the researchers and higher ups had quickly heard about your conversation with the plague doctor because within an hour, you were ordered into an meeting considering what should be done about the SCP's peculiar offer. It really looked like they were considering it because there were very high clearance members participating in the meeting via a conference call.

In short, you were in big trouble. You gaze was fixated on the table before you and no one really seemed to pay you much attention, despite this meeting being the result of your actions.

Arguments flew back and forth inside the room with two clear camps of opinion . One that thought it was a bad idea and the other that thought all data they could collect on the enigmatic SCP was needed before making any long term decisions considering the doctor. 049 had never before requested a Foundation member to be his assistant. Perhaps this could yield some useful information despite being risky and potentially life threatening to you.

“This is an excellent opportunity to learn more about that thing,” one doctor said. “We simply need more data.”

“This is not only a gross violation of safety procedures and protocol, but also highly dangerous and unethical. We’ve heard he wants to continue his research on living human beings. Most likely he will just kill his new “assistant” the moment they step inside that containment unit!” said another. “Like he killed doctor Hamm!”

“No, he “cured Hamm,” someone pointed out.

There was snickering in the room and you couldn't help but feel slightly ill. While dark humor was a coping mechanism that many seemed to prefer in presence of euclid and keter class SCPs, it still felt bad to think of how a good man like Hamm had died such a meaningless death in the hands of 049 and how people made fun of it.

The doctor's death had affected you more than you wanted to admit.

“You were not authorized to make any contact with SCP-049 and while admittedly he did initiate the conversation, you should have ignored him. Besides, your behavior and choice of words only encouraged the hat thing's actions.”

You stay silent for a moment, trying to decide your next choice of words very carefully. While humanity’s safety was in the Foundation’s best interest, they could be so very ruthless about their methods. You had no trouble believing that should they want to, those with power could easily find a way to throw you among the D-class personnel.

“I just thought a more sympathetic approach could yield more informative results,” you say quietly, starting to really fear that they’d allow the SCP-049 to use you as his assistant.

_Why did I have to go and talk with him? I should have ignored him._

You couldn't get the image of the white masked doctor staring at you out of your mind.

_I don't want to go anywhere near 049 ever again._

The bickering continued for a while longer, but slowly, the favor switched towards allowing SCP-049 have some of his allowances and privileges back and “letting” you participate in the research as his assistant. It this proved to be another useless experiment, then his containment would be clear.

“Are we honestly considering this? SCP-049 has clearly expressed his desire to work on living human test subjects. This is clearly just a ruse for that thing to get what he wants! With all due respect, the months we observed 049 provided no information, I don’t see how this would be any different,” one researcher said and you really wished she'd get more support, but the majority thought that this was worth the risk, considering you had “kinda brought it upon yourself”.

The plague doctor had directed his invitation only to you, having declared you to be his assistant in the fight against the pestilence.  
“Lets ask our assistant here then,” said one of the higher ups that had joined via a conference call, his voice carrying authority and power, silencing everyone else effectively. This had to be someone very high up to have power over set procedures.

“Will you assist SCP-049 in his research?” the voice asked, addressing you for the first time.

You cannot help but feel bitter amusement.

_Foundation asking my preference?_

No, they just wanted to know whether you were going to step into the containment room willingly, or if they'd have to drag your screaming body into observation room and push you forcibly into the unit to help the good doctor with his research.

A life of a new assistant didn’t feel very valuable right now and you knew it was your best interest to comply.

“I serve the Foundation's goals."

 

* * *

 

Later you find yourself all alone inside the locker room with only flickering light keeping you company. In two days you were going to start as the SCP’s assistant and before that, you’d have to go through an extensive medical and psychiatric screenings and evaluations to make sure you were perfectly healthy. But you knew that they’d be worthless. Pestilence (if it even existed) was something no machine or screening could pick up.

It really started to feel like you were being treated as a D-Class personnel, all because you had wanted to show a hint of kindness to another intelligent being, even if he was a deadly euclid class SCP. A decision you now dearly regretted.

Working for the Foundation had really lost its luster over time, despite you supporting its goals. The pay was rather nice, but living long enough to enjoy it had apparently become a pipe dream to you.

The orientation weeks had been just magical time and you had not been able to get enough of reading and listening through the logs the lecturers had provided you. Learning what kind of otherworldly beings were hidden from humanity's knowledge had been absolutely mind blowing.

During that time, you had not given much thought to the D-Class personnel since they were mostly murders etc...but after being assigned to the research facility the reality had hit you pretty hard.

Keters, Euclics, hell, even objects deemed as “safe” could cause so much chaos, pain and suffering if treated poorly or carelessly.

The seniors staff members had reassured you that “you'd get over it” within few weeks. Knowing that the work was extremely important for humanity's safety had helped a lot but...some deaths felt just so meaningless and cruel.

Your friends and relatives hadn't been pleased about your new job, not that you could even tell them much about it . When you had told them that you'd have to move far away and that you might not be able to contact them very often, the reaction had been cold. Probably better for the foundation to be honest.

Still, the more you learned about the Keters and how many there were, you couldn’t help but feel anxious and scared for your family's safety. The world had suddenly become so much more dangerous thanks to the knowledge you had been blessed with.

Right now, all you could think of were the days you had worked underneath Doctor Hamm, helping him with the research and running the lab studying the eerie plague doctor. You had watched how the SCP had worked on the dead animals and that...D-class personnel. You close your eyes and try to calm down, yet the images of the mutilated, reanimated animal and human corpses just flash before your eyes.

The goat, the bovine….Dr.Hamm.

Your heart starts to race as the fear and desperation finally fully settle in.

“Why me?” you mutter and slam the metal locker shut, the light flickering ominously over you. It really felt like you were made into a sacrifice for the Foundation to get more data. The organization could be so very cruel about their methods...

 _Is it all a ruse to get a human test subject? He goes on and on about the pestilence...am I infected by it? Am I to be cured like doctor Hamm? Am I going to end up like him_? you wondered, starting to feel really anxious and terrified.

You were going to be in a same room with 049, with an entity that could kill you with a single touch. Should he want to cure you, no one would be able to come to your aid in time. You were under the SCP's mercy.

Even though the plague doctor was polite and soft spoken, rarely getting agitated, he was still single minded in getting rid of the pestilence.

“How can I help him when I don't even understand what he is trying to cure?“ you whisper in despair, wanting to almost crawl into some corner and cry. He’d get frustrated with you and come to the conclusion that you were afflicted. It was hopeless, useless...you wouldn't be able to do anything.

“I don't want to die...” you whisper and in your minds eye you see the doctor tapping the glass window, singling you out.

“I will not die.”

 


	2. Experiment

"Don't worry, we’ve instructed SCP-049 not to touch you or hurt you in any way,” the cruel slave master of a doctor you worked for said as he escorted you through the endless corridors towards SCP-049's containment cell. The plague doctor's unit had once more become a laboratory and this time, you had the honor of assisting him. “If he kills you, well, we will simply revoke all his allowances once again.”

“I see,” you reply dryly.

With a creature that turned agitated, aggressive and non negotiable in the presence of the pestilence, (and that could kill you with a single touch), such reassuring words really warmed your heart.

A somewhat bitter smile formed on your lips as you find yourself staring at the old doctor's bald head that shone in the light of the fluorescent light. Knowing how you might not live long enough to see another day made you find what little amusement you could.

To darken your mood, the man let out a small chuckle and added, “as if telling this to you would matter in anyway. If he touches you, you won’t be there to take care of the aftermath.”

 _He is such an asshole…_ you think, starting to really miss Doctor Hamm who had expected diligence and good results, but had never treated you like his personal slave.

“We’ve provided him with a guard dog that expired due to natural causes,” he continued, sounding almost bored, as if having already decided that this was all a waste of time. “If it was up to me, I'd have that thing terminated. I simply can't see anyway this will benefit the foundation. Doctor Hamm's death should have been evidence enough to keep this SCP in indefinite containment.”

 _A dog? You can't be serious...I'm going to die, aren't I?_ He clearly stated only living human test subjects could provide him with needed information. Working on a dog would not satisfy the plague doctor for long...

“How do you feel?” the doctor asked, not really caring, but needing the answer for a report.

“In all honesty? Like D-Class personnel.”

The 2 days of going through medical screenings and psych evaluation had left you utterly exhausted. The questions after questions upon more questions had left you questioning your own sanity and existence. Were you even real?

Still, the results were great and the medical staff had declared you completely healthy with strong mental strength. Really, you were the perfect test subject.

After what felt like an eternity you enter the observation room with the doctor.

There were a handful of researchers and assistant there already and everyone's eyes were on you. You can feel how your heart starts to race as you gaze into the containment unit to see the plague doctor pacing back and forth with his medical journal in his hand, turning the pages as he revised his research notes. However, the SCP stops when he notices you, snapping the book shut.

The dead dog rested on the operating table and it was clear everyone had been waiting for you.

“Well, get in there...” the doctor mutters to you, almost shoving you forward.

You find yourself slowly approaching the door and with each step you take, the panic and primal fear of death takes a firmer grip of your mind.

Your steps echo from the walls and soon enough, you stand directly in front of the door that slides open when the doctor runs his card through the reader.

After inhaling deeply to try and calm yourself down, you step inside the containment unit, only to hear how the door slides shut behind you, sealing you inside with the plague doctor.

Heavy silence fell over the containment unit and you can feel how your breathing starts to get slightly frantic. You fearfully gaze at the black robed doctor who eyes you in appraising manner.

For a moment, you were absolutely certain he was going to advance and close the gap between you two to end your life with a single touch, but he did no such thing. No, he merely waited patiently for you to join him.

 _I am not sick, I am not ill with the pestilence_ , you think all relieved, starting to calm down a bit when the good doctor did nothing threatening.

“Ah, you've finally arrived, good. Come now, we need to start our work immediately, we have much to learn from this test subject, despite it being dead as it is,” the doctor said, gesturing towards the quite dead dog on the operating table. Somehow you just knew it was not going to stay that way for long.

* * *

 

“You are most diligent assistant. Now, hand me the scalpel,” the doctor said as he worked on the guard dog's now twisted and malformed legs, pumping vile liquids he had described as humors of the body into the animal’s corpse. The dog’s face had been pretty much split open, its eyeball hanging loosely out...

 _I'm sorry. I'm sure you were a good boy. Wish you were treated with more respec_ t, you find yourself thinking as you sadly eye the German shepherd whose remains would just be incinerated afterwards.

“Th-this one?” you ask, placing the surgical blade into the doctor's hand. It was somewhat of a miracle how your hands weren't' trembling due to the fear.

You had no idea how you managed to stay composed working this close to the deadly SCP who maimed and cut up the once beautiful dog who had faithfully served the foundation, loving its work and trainers.

Your job was to hand the doctor tools and chemicals upon request so that he could work without any distractions, completely focused on his work.

Each time 049 requested a humor or something similar, you reached into his doctor's bag without any clue what you were looking for, yet somehow you always seemed to find whatever he wanted almost immediately. You couldn't help but wonder if the bag itself had some extraordinary aspects to it.

To be honest, this kinda reminded you of your first days at this facility, only ten times worse. The fear of screwing something up really badly was back, though this time you wouldn't get yelled at by the security for trying to go somewhere you shouldn't, oh no, you'd get turned into mindless and mutilated monster.

You could see how the researchers and other personnel on the other side of the reinforced glass kept gawking and staring at you, probably expecting the dangerous SCP to turn on you any given second. You wouldn’t be surprised if they had started a gambling ring about how long you'd survive.

_Maybe I should join in? Bet on that I'll live. I really have nothing to lose._

However, you are soon pulled from the dark and murky depths of your mind when an eerie howl of a whine pierces the silence. It makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck and you can see how the researcher's expressions turn to disgust and queasiness. The dead had returned to the lands of the living.

You slowly turn your gaze back to the operating table with a horrified look on your face, yet the doctor doesn't pay you any attention. The deceased dog had opened its milky white eyes and was panting and whining pathetically on the operating table. It sounded all wrong and unnatural with its body and face being cut the way they were.

Dread overwhelms you and your breathing gets slightly more frantic as the dog whimpers, twitches, howls and whines weakly on the metal table, as if begging to be put out of its misery. You can't help but expect the guard dog to jump off the table and attack you in order to tear your throat open and taste your blood, but it merely rests on there, letting the plague doctor work on him.

 _I can't do this, I can't,_ you think hopelessly as you stare at the gruesome sight before your eyes. Even back when Hamm had been alive, you had tried not to look at the reanimated animals 049 worked on..

Now that you were right next to one as it slowly came back to life, an overwhelming urge to just dash to the door to escape overwhelmed you despite knowing that the doctor could kill you before anyone could let you out or come to your aid.

 _I can....I_ _ **have**_ _to do this in order to survive_ , you think and try to calm yourself down.

Besides, you didn’t have the clearances to leave...you were a prisoner, just like the SCP next to you.

They had not even given you a card.

“Do not be afraid, it is cured of the pestilence,” SCP-049 said, as if to reassure you that there was no danger of the insidious disease spreading; as if it should be your biggest concern and not the canine's sharp teeth. His voice was barely more than a whisper and somehow, you wondered if the researchers could hear him at all due to their confused expressions.

“The pestilence...it really is everywhere, isn't it?” you find yourself murmuring, voice trembling as you helplessly stare at the otherworldly and nightmarish sight before your eyes. The doctor's clothes were covered in blood and bits of flesh.

How could you not believe in such a thing when witnessing something like this? If this SCP could reanimate the dead without the Foundation having any understanding how he did it (not that any of the objects could truly be understood)...then what prevented some unknown horror of a disease existing?

“Unfortunately yes, but not to worry, I am close to a perfect cure,” the doctor replied to you, still working on the poor guard dog. “I'm certain of it.”

As you watch the doctor, you start to forget about the world around you. You were hypnotized by the gruesome and grotesque view, unable to take your eyes off it despite wanting to.

“Is it in the staff….?” you whisper out loud, wondering what would happen if a containment breach happened. Would 049 cure every single person he'd come across and turn them into 049-2 instances?

_Is my family sick? Or friends? Would he cure them?_

The scalpel stops in midway of the animal's neck when the doctor glances at the window for a fleeting moment. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but you could see the burning intensity and obsession in his gaze, the desire to reach the people on the other side of the reinforced glass and cure them of the only ailment that mattered.

“Unfortunately yes. Even now I can sense its insidious presence...spreading in the staff despite this place being as clean as it is,” he says quietly, pulling few tubes from the dog's body. Apparently he was done with the test subject for today.

Anxiety's painful grip becomes almost unbearable as you find yourself wondering if your closest colleagues and doctors were sick? What...what prevented you being sick? You needed to know if this all was just a ruse.

“Is it in me? Am...am I sick with the great pestilence?”

The plague doctor yanks out the last copper tube before turning to you, eying you up and down a couple of times before lightly shaking his head.

“No, not yet at least.”

* * *

 

Two agonizingly long and fear inducing weeks had passed since you had started working with SCP-049, during which he had not touched you nor shown any aggression towards you, although, you had seen him staring a handful of people with intimidating intensity, his grip on the scalpel visibly tightening every time they were inside the observation room.

The plague doctor had finished with the dog a while a go and was now operating on a dead gibbon since he had requested a more...human like test subject. It was a sign of good will from the foundation, but the plague doctor no longer seemed to have the same level of cordial behavior as he used to. He had not thanked the researchers for the provided test subject.

 

During these two weeks, you had learned absolutely nothing, other than anatomy and the inhumane ways animal's limbs could bend and how much blood there actually was. Despite all this horrific knowledge, pestilence's nature still eluded you and everything the doctor did was like magic to you.

The humors, the crude surgery...it was all beyond your comprehension. It was only a matter of time before he'd realize you were just like the rest of the researchers, clueless to the nature of this disease and never able to understand it.

_Why can't they just stop this experiment before he kills me? Please._

“You’ve been silent, assistant,” SCP -049 noted calmly, not lifting his gaze from the small ape’s corpse. It was a precious test subject and thus precise work was required. “Is there a reason for that?”

You tremble slightly as you stare at the tall robed SCP's back.

The whole facility was running with a skeleton crew now thanks to potential Keter class SCP that had been accidentally unearthed. All able personnel had been pulled to a handful of established research sites to help containing and studying the thing that thankfully was stationary object. Unfortunately it was close to a lively town and all agents were needed to keep people safe.

Only a single rookie guard had been posted to watch over the observation room and to you, it looked like he was bored out of his mind. You couldn't really blame him, after all, nothing interesting ever happened with SCP-049 these days.

The doctor got his test subject, the test subject either stayed dead or was reanimated before getting disposed of. Rinse and repeat.

You can't help but keep glancing every now and then at the lone guard, starting to feel nervous and somewhat scared for him and for yourself. Why? Because SCP-049 was constantly distracted by him, unable to focus on his work at all. The deadly SCP kept glancing at the daydreaming man, his grip on the scalpel visibly tightening each time. The masked plague doctors started to look really anxious and agitated.

 _He is sick with the pestile_ nce, you think, starting to feel very anxious yourself. Knowing that the doctor wanted to cure the man no matter what left you utterly terrified, especially since you knew he’d turn agitated and hostile in its presence.

The new guard was a good man and you had talked with him a couple of times. He had a wife and a child waiting back home and had taken this job to support them.

“I still can't understand it...” you blurt out due to the fear and the SCP-049 instantly halts his work. You can feel how the ice cold tendrils of terror wrap around your heart as the doctor slowly turns his gaze from from the dead gibbon and looks directly at you, his intense stare paralyzing you completely.

Your heart starts to race when the euclid SCP straightens his back and turns fully to you. Suddenly your words of truth started to feel like a death sentence.

 _Please, I don't want to die,_ you start to think in panic, however, before you can take a single step backwards, the doctor tilts his head slightly to the side and says in his calming voice.

“Yes, well...you are my assistant, I don’t expect you to fully comprehend it. All that matters is that you seek to help me....”

The guard checks his cellphone and smiles at something on the screen, completely unable to notice how the tall doctor starts slowly taking steps towards his assistant who looks scared and anxious.

“You try to understand this curse that has been inflicted upon mankind...In time, you'll be blessed with insight,” he says, closing the distance between you two with few steps. He peers into your eyes and suddenly you can't move a muscle, you were simply too scared to.

His hand starts to move.

“You will see just how sick all of them are,” the masked SCP murmurs, his black gloved hand reaching for your face, gently grasping your chin to turn your face from side to side. “I can help you, I...I know I can. You'll see...you'll see how much they all suffer.”

It takes few seconds from your brain to understand what just had happened, but when the realization hits you, it hits like a truck. Your eyes widen due to the pure terror that washes over you, but darkness does not take you nor do you feel the call of neither heaven nor hell. Absolutely nothing happens.

While his hand felt cold and the leather glove felt uncomfortable against your skin, it had no additional effects. The touch that before had always resulted in death, had done nothing to you. Was this because he didn't want you dead?

“Hey! what is going in there!” the guard finally yelled, only now realizing that the SCP had broken direct orders not to physically touch you in any way. Apparently he had not been briefed about what happened if he did.

“Like him, contaminated...afflicted by the pestilence,” the doctor said, growing more and more agitated each passing second, his grip on your chin tightening as his voice rises. You are sure he can see the fear in your eyes as he studies you, looking for any sign of the disease. He breaks the eye contact only when the guard starts to approach the door.

“Look, look at the sickness the foundation allows to fester within its facility’s walls, unable and refusing to do anything about it,” he continues, suddenly pushing you against the glass window to make you look at the guard that was pulling his key-card from his pocket. “He is sick…they are all sick! I will cure them...it is my duty to cure them,” the agitated and now hostile SCP says, eyes following the guard that rushed to the door, attempting to open it and come to your help. “I am the cure.”

 

It all happened so fast.

“No don’t come in here!”” you yelled at the guard who either ignored your words or hadn’t heard them at all.

The guard opened the heavy metal door with his card, ready to attack the SCP and subdue him, but his fate had already been sealed.

SCP-049 was much more agile than he looked for a man dressed in black plague doctor’s robes, his movements were graceful as water and the look in his eyes was truly intimidating. He was determined to cure this man no matter what it would take.

049 closed the gap between him and the guard, taking hold of the shotgun's barrel and pushing it upwards, away from him and you just when the man was about to pull the trigger. He moved and acted with skill that had probably come from centuries of experience...this hardly was his first time facing a gun.

One had to wonder, would bullets even have any effect on him?

The gun went off, but the pellets only hit the ceiling and few fluorescent lights, effectively breaking them. You let out a small scream of terror and try to shield yourself from the glass shards that rain down upon your form. The doctor reaches for the man's face, his five fingertips finally finding the guard's skin.

The yell of anger and fear died on the man's lips the moment his heart ceased to beat, his body jolting violently a couple of times before slumping ungracefully onto the cold floor, his eyes void of any life.

“No no no, please no,” you repeat quietly and back away slightly, pressing yourself against the glass window and holding your trembling hands to your chest.

All noise had ceased with only the soft humming of the machinery and your breathing chasing away the unbearable silence. The few lights that had not been completely destroyed by the shot flickered, giving the room even more eerie and nightmarish feel to it.

A guard had just died for trying to help you. Sure, he had broken the rules by not waiting for back up, but still...a good man had died because of you. 049 looks at you, realizing how terrified you were.

“Don’t look sad, he was very, very sick...the pestilence simply cannot be allowed to fester and spread. This was an act of mercy,” the tall SCP stated quietly, his gaze never leaving yours. “You know it was.”

You hastily glance at the door that had been left open by the now deceased guard and every instinct tells you to dash for it, but before you can act, the doctor notices what you are looking at.

The SCP-049 swiftly kneels down to pick up the clearance card the guard had dropped and gives you a somewhat amused, if a bit cruel glance before swiping the card through the reader, locking the door. Once again, the two of you were sealed inside the containment unit.

“Aren't...aren’t you going to leave?” you find yourself asking and the doctor eyes you in almost scolding manner.

“Goodness no. We have a patient to attend to, a very, very sick patient.”

* * *

 

This all felt like a nightmare to you, a horrible nightmare you couldn’t wake up from. No matter how many times you tried to will yourself to wake up, closing your eyes and opening them again in hopes of finding yourself in your bed, you remain inside the containment room with the doctor and his newest test subject.

The doctor had cast the dead gibbon aside after all his cure was of little use to dead flesh. Humans...humans were the only things he wanted to work on.

“Hand me that saw, quickly now, this is the most critical phase,” the doctor said, waiting for you to place the bone saw into his hand that was soaked in dark blood that had already started clotting. With trembling hands, you lift the metal tool and hand it over to the SCP who thanks you politely before resuming his work.

The sound of bone being sawed fills the air and you can't help but feel nauseous. The reek of blood and flesh was overwhelming and left your head spinning.

 _This is not happening, this simply cannot be happening to me,_ you think as you stare at the remnants of a human male before you, his body twisted, maimed, mutilated and patched up into inhumane shape.

Your hands were soaked in his blood ( apparently gloves had not been necessary according to the SCP-049) and your clothes had been painted red as well; hell, you were pretty sure there were bits and pieces of organs stuck to your clothes here and there.

There were copper tubes sticking out of the corpse with vile liquid being pumped into him. You almost lost conscience when the guard's form started to twitch weakly on the table as he was brought back into the world of the living as nothing more than a husk.

 _I’m going to die in here,_ was all you could think of as the man started to flail and groan. _H_ _e’ll think I’m sick for certain. How can he not?_

“Finally, fully cleansed of the pestilence. See how he is free from the agony of it? How the disease no longer lingers in his flesh...” the doctor inquires, his gaze fixated on yours. ”But there is still much work to be done...we can cure everyone in this facility and eradicate the pestilence, I know we can,” he says, studying and observing every change in your expression. “You do understand this?” he asks, clearly waiting for an answer.

Your heart starts to race and you can't find any words that would save you, words that could satisfy the doctor. The fear, the primal fear of death had overwhelmed every cell in your body.

You can see it in his eyes, the realization that you do not understand, that no matter how much you try, the nature of the pestilence eludes you. 049's gaze grows cold and he swiftly sizes you up a couple of times, as if doing some medical calculations in his head.

 _I don't want to end up like him, I do not! Why can't I understand it? I can't see it. Am I sick?...I have to be._ Your mouth dries and your breathing starts to become frantic. _I don't want to die._

 

“...are you feeling well?”

 

You freeze completely, the doctor's words being those you had dreaded to hear. You heart skips a beat when you see his hand starting to reach slowly towards you. He was going to cure you for certain.

Miraculously, you are snapped from your paralyzed state when the patient on the table suddenly starts thrashing slightly, knocking a small metal tray beside the medical table onto the floor.  
You see how the chemistry flasks and vials on the table shatter against the floor upon an impact, spreading glass everywhere, but what really catches your attention was how the security guard's card found its way onto the floor as well..

“Lively,” the doctor muttered softly and turned to look at the reanimated corpse before quickly reaching for his journal to make some remark.

The moment you lose the SCP's attention, you glance at the key card that was only a meter or so away from you.

_I can...I can make it, I know I can!_

The moment the doctor opens the heavy leather book, you lunge at the keycard, grasping it tightly before scrambling towards to containment unit's door in panic. Your breathing was frantic and your movements were fueled by pure desperation and fear of death.

_I don't want to die! I can't die and come back like he did. I have to get out of here!_

The doctor glances at you, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side before tapping the cover of his medical journal a couple of times with his finger, causing the 02 instance jump off the table and leap at you.

Just when you are about to swipe your card through the reader, the zombie like creature knocks you painfully onto the floor and pins you down with his body weight.

“No! Let go of me!” you yell in terror and despair, trying to get free from underneath the reanimated corpse''s hold but it is useless.

“And here I thought you'd finally understand the nature of the pestilence, but alas...despite everything, your eyes remain shut,” SCP-049 murmurs as he walks over to you, kneeling down to pry the keycard from your hand, putting it between his journal's pages as a bookmark before snapping the journal shut once more. “Yes...I think more drastic procedures are needed to expand your horizon.”

“Please, let me go,” you whisper as the zombified guard keeps you under his control, but the doctor ignores your pleas.

“I cannot work with amateurs...Oh no, something has to be done.”

The terror grips your heart and mind agonizingly painfully as you watch how he black robed SCP rests his book onto a nearby table before picking up a folded metal chair, opening and setting it in the center of the room. The loud sound of the metal legs hitting the floor echoed forebodingly off the walls of the room, filling your heart and mind with nothing but terror.

“It seems proper medication is in order,” the masked entity mutters out loud as he picks up his doctor's bag and sets it on the table, starting to pull out vials with red and black viscous looking liquids inside them.

When his tools were all set, the doctor snaps his fingers almost absentmindedly and the SCP-049-2 starts dragging you towards the steel chair, sitting you down on it before shambling behind you to take a firm hold of your head to keep you there.

The undead creature's hold was vice like, the pressure against your skull almost painful. You had no trouble believing the creature could make your skull cave in if the doctor so wished.

 _Please no, I want this to stop,_ you plead silently as you watch the doctor work with the liquids, measuring and mixing them into a chemical flask, checking his notes every now and then. _Someone please just walk in..._

“You have an affliction of mind, an inability to see or accept the truth despite it being so blatantly presented before your very eyes,” the doctor says calmly as he walks over to you, clearly intending to make you drink whatever was inside that glass flask. “But unlike the rest of your ilk, you have the willingness to learn. It is my duty to aid that process.”

Panic and fear of death starts to overwhelm you as you look at the liquid inside. If you drank it, you'd die for certain, you were absolutely certain of it. It looked like something that could corrode straight through your flesh.

When you refuse to open your mouth, the doctor squints his eyes dangerously behind the mask and looks rather vexed by your actions.

In an instant, the now zombified guard takes hold of your jaws, prying your mouth open. A whimper of utter despair and terror escapes you as you try hopelessly to grit your teeth together, only to have the guard's cold and stiff fingers pushed between the two rows of teeth, forcing you to keep your mouth open.

You scream helplessly in defiance and try to bite his fingers while thrashing wildly, but he was long dead and could not feel the pain. SCP-049 merely observes you calmly as you exhaust yourself fighting his cured patient.

“Calm yourself...” the doctor says softly as the zombie forces your head back a bit for the bird masked SCP to pour the vile liquid in. “The medicine might be bitter, but it is most effective.”

It feels like you are choking, but before you can spit it out, the 02 instance clamps its hand over your mouth until you are forced to swallow it.

You cough violently, wanting to vomit the vile disgusting liquid out, only to find yourself unable to.

 _It hurts_ , you think as you start to feel violently ill; it was like your insides were burning. Panic and fear of death were stronger than ever before and you quickly realized your eye sight had gone all blurry.

The doctor leaned down, mask inches away from your face.

The undead assistant let go of your head and the SCP took a moment to study his work, examining your face and eyes. He grasped your chin lightly, his bloody gloves leaving your skin stained in the guard's blood as he turned your head from side to side.

“Passable results, but not my best work,” SCP-049 remarked as you struggle to stay conscious.

You were so scared, so utterly terrified of what was happening to you. The sounds around you started to become muffled and now you had started to see everything double as well as the world around you started to fade away into the darkness you probably wouldn't wake up from.

“Not to worry, the side effect will pass,” the doctor continued in his calm and mesmerizing voice that was the only clear thing to you now, the only thing you could to focus on.

However, just when you were about to pass out, you can hear the faint sound of the observation room's door sliding open. You can't see them, but a small group consisting of scientists and security walk in, chattering pleasantly about something, completely unaware of what had occurred inside the containment chamber.

“Help me,” you whisper weakly, your voice and words reaching only the plague doctor before you. “Please....”

“You will be blessed with the wisdom and insight to comprehend my cure,” the doctor states softly and pays no heed to the group who finally realize what has happened. This time, the sick could wait for a moment, after all, how could he effectively cure anyone if his assistant couldn't help him? “I will root it out.”

“Get that door open! Now!” you hear one of the scientists yell, but his voice sounds distant and muffled to you. You knew they wouldn't be able to reach or help you.

“Oh, more patients,” the plague doctor says with a soft chuckle and the SCP-049-2 instance lunges towards the group, only to get gunned down the moment the door opens.

Once the zombified guard was down, the security storms in and aim a their guns at the masked doctor who was approaching them with his hand raised, only to be shot by stun gun along with few sedatives that slow 049 down until he finally slumped down onto the floor.

When they are certain that the SCP no longer poses them any threat, the scientists hurry to your side, but you can no longer make any sense of what they are trying to say to you. Their voices were muffled, distant...their shapes dark and shadowy.

The last thing you remember before succumbing to the darkness is how you helplessly start coughing up blood.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear, wonder what will happen next to you, dear reader. *laughs menacingly*
> 
> One more chapter to go.


	3. Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up dividing a chapter again, too many events for a single chapter.

White, pure and pristine white is the first thing you see when you finally open your eyes to the waking world and for a fleeting moment, you cannot help but wonder, if you were in heaven or some sort of a purgatory with nothing but endless white space you were destined to travel for an eternity.

However, as your blurry vision starts to slowly focus once more, you realize what you are staring at was in fact a snow white ceiling with the walls around you being completely white as well. Everything around you was so clean, sterile and cold. 

 _Where...where am I?_ you wonder as you turn your head weakly to the side, only to realize you were in the research site's medical wing, or more precisely, inside the quarantine room.

When you see the heavy door with a biohazard sign on it, the painful and horrible memories come flooding back into your mind. Despite your body having been pumped full of sedatives and god knows what other drugs, you can feel the familiar cold caress of anxiety and fear as you recall what happened prior to you falling unconscious.

049 touching you without killing you, the guard's horrible death and the crude surgery that had followed….and the vile medicine the doctor had forced you to drink. The emotional shock from recalling all of it while still under the effect of the drugs was almost too much for you to endure.

 _I can't be alive, can I? Surely I am dead and simply haven't realized it yet,_ you think all disoriented and fight to keep your eyes open. It really feels like your mind was shrouded and lost in fog, probably thanks to all the sedatives you've been given.

You muster what little strength you have to lift your head slightly up to look at yourself, expecting to see your form cut and mutilated, only to find a single IV attached to your arm and that you were wearing a simple hospital gown. No doubt the clothes you had been wearing had been taken off and incinerated immediately, being covered in blood and various substances from the 049’s doctor’s bag as they were.

Your arms feel so heavy when you raise them to touch and explore your chest to feel if there was a dissection scar underneath the cloth, but there is none to be found. Curiously, you see number of needle marks on your arm, result of numerous blood samples the doctors had taken along with sedatives and painkillers they had pumped into you, probably along with numerous other drugs and strong antibiotics just to be sure.

 _Why am I inside a quarantine? Am I sick? Infected with something vile?_ you wonder as you stare at the heavy metal doors that were locked. _Is it the pestilence?_

Had you woken up from your dreamless slumber just to endure a slow and painful death? The thought was most frightening.

You can see a lone nurse appear on the other side of the window who is sipping coffee from a large mug while checking some medical papers. She wasn’t paying any attention to you, only glancing at your room rather absent mindedly after a good while. However, upon seeing you awake and staring back at her, her expression turns into one of pure shock and she almost drops her coffee mug onto the floor.

Before you can call out to her (though you weren’t quite sure if you had any strength to even form a voice) she turns around and hurries off, probably to get the doctors who no doubt hat endless amount of questions for you.

 _I don't understand any of this, y_ ou think helplessly as you hear running steps approaching the quarantine room.

You can feel how warm tears start to form in your eyes and you weakly lift your hands to wipe them away. The emotions you had tried to keep at bay and under control while working underneath the SCP started to finally break free and overwhelm you completely. You inhale deeply and try not to start crying and weeping but it was so hard.

”I just want to go back home and for this nightmare to end.”

 

* * *

 

“Do you have any idea what SCP-049 gave you? Did he describe the substance in any way before administering it to you?”

You stay quiet for a moment as you just stare at a tablet that rests in your hands with a somewhat lifeless look in your eyes. There were two doctors in light blue hazmat suits sitting across you, trying to question you about what had occurred with the plague doctor with very poor results. You simply didn't have any real answers to their questions.

“No,” you reply quietly as the nightmarish and traumatic scenario flashes before your eyes over and over again. You could recall every moment with the guard and SCP-049 with perfect clarity and somehow you just knew that it had etched itself permanently into your mind so that you’d never forget it without help from Foundation provided amnestics.

The reek of blood, the flickering light and the plague doctor's form and soft voice haunted you every waking moment.

“He just said it was medicine.”

The doctors glanced at each other and looked rather vexed and tired by the line of answers you were giving them, and your lack of attention. It was like you were miles away, only able to focus on the tablet in your hands.

 _Is that really me_? You ponder as your stare at a slide show of pictures and video clips the doctors had taken of you after you had lost consciousness.

Though you had seen plenty of horrible and horrifying things while working for the Foundation and with SCP-049, it was almost too painful to watch a video of yourself being hurried towards the medical wing and the quarantine zone while clearly on the verge of death.

The video clip that played on the screen showed how blood was pouring unstoppably from your mouth, nose and even eyes. You can feel your lower lip start to tremble slightly as you watch how the camera man zooms in on your face to focus on how dark blood was oozing from underneath your closed eye lids, as if you were crying blood.

It was a miracle you had not died from blood loss alone. The medical staff had been at loss and completely helpless with your condition, having had no idea how to treat it.

Though the mystery liquid had initially done tremendous damage to your body, the bleeding had ceased on its own after a while and you had been left in comatose state. The cause and effect still eluded the researchers and it seemed like you couldn’t give them any answers.

These two doctors had explained that you had been out cold for 6 whole days after the incident, time during which the doctors had done extensive screenings and tests on your body in order to find out what kind of a poison or disease the plague doctor had given you, but no one had been able to figure out what that vile viscous substance had been.

The only thing that everyone seemed to agree on was that no one had any idea what on earth the SCP had done to you.

While the researchers had managed to take samples of the “medicine” and tried to analyse it, the results had been inconclusive.

“I'm not quite sure how I should put this.... Are you feeling any different at all in anyway?” asked the other doctor who tried furiously to write down some information they could use in the investigation.

You blink a couple of times before lowering your gaze once more to the slide show of pictures that now showed you lying on the bed inside the quarantine with dry blood all over your clothes and face. What did they expect to learn? There was no way anyone could ever truly understand an SCP.

“I don't know,” you reply, voice barely more than a whisper. ”Exhausted and weak from the sedatives and lack of movement I guess.”

It really was an honest answer. After recalling what had happened, you had desperately tried to feel what had changed in your condition, but you felt completely fine apart from the overall weakness that would pass.

“How are you even still alive?” the other doctor wondered out loud, expressing his irritation rather than asking a real question.

All people involved in this investigation had witnessed from the camera feed how the SCP had touched you, an act that until now had always resulted in death, yet somehow you were still walking around, completely fine.

A somewhat sad smile forms on your lips, yet the look of fear and anxiety lingers in your eyes as you stare at the gruesome pictures on the screen, the outside world slowly fading away as you are trapped in the traumatic memory.

Suddenly, you were back inside that locked containment room with the plague doctor. You could smell the reek of blood and see the SCP towering over you, his clothes soaked in blood with bits and pieces of organ matter here and there, yet despite all that, his voice remained so soft and calm, like what he had done was all good and right.

_I never want to deal with another SCP ever again. I want to get as far away from this place as possible and just forget._

“I don't know.”

 

* * *

 

After few more days and even more examinations, the doctors responsible of you declare it safe to let you out of the quarantine, after all they hadn't been able to find anything wrong with you apart from the initial injuries that were already healing.

There was no trace of dangerous poisons, bacteria or viruses in your system. Hell, if one was to just look at the test results alone, they could argue that some of your values were actually better after what the SCP had done to you, but that had to be an error.

Still, with SCP-049 being involved, some of the doctors had expressed their concern about a potential disease with a long incubation period they simply had not picked up, but it didn't seem plausible.

In any case, you were relieved to get out of the quarantine. The pristine whiteness and cleanliness of the area started to really get to you.

No one could understand what really had occurred between you and the plague doctor, but the general consensus among the doctors and research of the site started to become that the plague doctor was unable to cure anything at all, and his attempts at poisoning the personnel were mediocre at best as well.

The experiment you had been part of had already been discontinued and there was an ongoing investigation in the matter of the guard's death, albeit it was being swiftly wrapped up. Incidents like this happened every now and then and the Foundation was very effective and thorough in its investigation.

The news about the incident had spread fast and while some staff members did give you curious looks as you made your way through the corridors, in the end, no one really paid you that much attention.

It seemed like the guard's death was already old news, even if it still constantly haunted you. D-class personnel lifespans were often times quite short and deaths in security weren't that uncommon either. Really, what had happened with you and 049 was not worth the hassle nor the resources.

What you had heard from some of the doctors was that once the investigation was finished, the board would decide about the plague doctor's fate. He was either going to be held in containment indefinitely, or was going to be terminated if such a thing was even possible.  


To no one’s surprise, you had been suspended from performing your usual duties until the investigation had been concluded.

You spend a couple of days recovering and catching up to everything that had happened while you had been unconscious. Apparently more and more personnel were being pulled from the site to assist with few potential Keter and Euclid class beings.

As you mingle with the staff, you can't help but feel like there is something off about certain people and the facility in general, however you don't give it much thought, thinking it to be merely your imagination or an after effect caused by all of the drugs they had given you.

However, at times when you close your eyes during quiet moments when you are all alone, you can almost grasp and feel what is amiss with the site, but just when you are about to have an idea what it was, it eludes you and fades away.

Unfortunately, the cruel truth about things finally dawn upon you when you are called to a meeting with the doctor who loathed you so much and treated you as his personal slave.

* * *

 

“We are going to transfer you to another site, one where you are out of the way and hopefully unable to screw anything up. You’ll be working in the archives from now on, as far away as possible from any SCPs, ” the doctor said coldly as he signed some papers, not bothering to even look at you as you sit across his table on an uncomfortable metal chair that just reminded you of the incident.

“I see,” you reply quietly and nod at the doctor, unsure how you should react or behave upon hearing the news. To be honest, you felt relieved to hear that you would be doing some boring archiving work despite it being a blatant demotion in everyone else's eyes. What mattered to you was getting as much space between you and the plague doctor, the sooner the better.

The mere thought of being inside the same building with him made you feel anxious and frightened, half expecting the deadly entity appear in door ways or behind corners, wanting to drag you back into the containment with him to work.

Hell, even resting within the staff quarters had almost proven to be impossible and what little sleep you did manage to get was restless and filled with nothing but nightmares.

049 haunted you in your dreams and each time you woke yourself up with a scream, your body coated in cold sweat.

In the dreams, he'd slowly approach you while speaking in his calm, gentle and mesmerizing voice, telling you that everything was alright and that there was no need to be afraid. He wanted to help you.

In the nightmares you always tried to run and escape, only to get lost in the endless maze of corridors that twisted and turned in unnatural and insane manner. Eventually you'd always trip over someone you knew, whether it was a loved one or a co-worker. The floor underneath you would turn into blood and you'd find yourself struggling to keep your head on the surface as all the corpses float around you. You'd see the plague doctor in the darkness, watching you slowly drown in the blood while writing notes into his medical journal. The sound of the pen scribbling on the rough paper was the only thing you could hear along with your own screams.

You are suddenly pulled from your memories back to reality when the old doctor coughs a couple of times, making you jump a bit.

The bald man with glasses looks up from his papers and eyes you in rather demeaningly, his eyes holding nothing but spite to them. He had never liked your intrigue and compassion towards the various SCPs. Such an approach was dangerous.

“Honestly, where do they find fuck ups like you? We lost a staff member thanks to you playing friends with an SCP. Admittedly, the guard did act without backup, but this whole experiment started thanks to you,” the man almost snapped. “I told you weren't authorized to speak with that thing. This is what you get for treating an SCP with compassion and showing them sympathy, they are not human, no matter how much they act or behave like one,” he continued, scolding you harshly. “If it was up to me I’d place you among the D-class personnel, but fortunately for you, I'm not the one making the decision. Still, you’ll never work with an SCP objects again.”

A somewhat bitter smile formed on your lips and you can feel your eyes water up slightly. Honestly, hearing that was a relief.

 _I guess it is really my fault, I should never have talked with him or acknowledge his presence,_ you think, feeling so foolish and naïve for showing any kindness towards the dangerous and deadly SCP who had seen you as a like-minded individual, wanting to share his work with you and show you the true nature of the pestilence so that you could help him root it out.

The way the plague doctor acted and treated you was truly terrifying. He wanted you to see and learn, no matter the cost, after all, you were his assistant.

_None of this would have happened if I had just listened to orders and done my job._

You were lucky to be alive, something that couldn't be said about the guard...

“I think that is for the best,” you say with a soft yet weary sigh, causing the old man to scoff.

 _Is this the firs time we actually agree on something?_ You think and can't help but feel a tad amused.

“Actually, is...is there any chance I could get some amnestics? I...I'm not sure I want to remember what happened to me. I want to forget what I saw,” you ask quietly, but the man just looks at you like you were worth nothing to him.

“No, for research purposes you need to remember everything,” he explains coldly.

For a fleeting moment, you think this is finally over and that you can just return to the staff quarters until the day of your transfer, only for the old doctor to recall one last vital thing that would end up sealing your fate.

“Oh, and one more thing, for us to conclude the investigation, we need to have you meet up with the SCP-049 one last time to exhaust all possible options and branches for investigation. That thing refuses to speak to anyone but his “assistant”, so we need you to get in there and get some information if possible.”

You tense up and start to feel really nervous and scared. That sounded like a really horrible idea after what he had done to you. Just thinking about having to face the masked plague doctor overwhelmed you with dread and anxiety. It was as if there was cold, rusty metal barb wire around your heart and lungs, tightening around them slowly, the sharp spikes sinking into the flesh in agonizing manner, leaving you paralysed.

 _I can't,_ you think and find it hard to keep your breathing stable.

“I rather not if that is possible, not after what happened,” you whisper in trembling voice.

The doctor looks at you and gives you a small, cold and completely unamused smile, as if he found the fact you had even the nerve to express your opinion laughable and amusing.

“Oh, it is quite necessary. The good “doctor” refuses to answer any of our questions, raving on and on about the pestilence, the cure and how he needs to continue his work with his assistant. We must gather all the data we can before making any decisions about what we are going to do next. After that, you will never again work with another SCP, I can assure you that. ”

 _I can't, I can't go back into those rooms_ , you think in utter panic, your eyes reflecting the pure, primal terror you were experiencing.

The plague doctor had almost killed you when he had realized you could not understand the great pestilence and God only knows what he would have done with your corpse if the researchers had not walked in.

_I just want to leave this facility and go back home._

From the very moment you had entered the man’s office you had felt anxious and agitated, feelings that had only grown stronger with each passing minute you spent in the old and mean doctor's company.

The more agitated and anxious you got, the more you started to realize that it was not the thought of having to see SCP-049 alone that caused these unpleasant feelings. It was as if something was amiss inside the office itself, like there was something very wrong about it, yet you couldn't quite put your finger on what it was.

You shift uncomfortably on the chair, trying to understand why you were feeling so uneasy and distressed.

It was as if the office was unclean, putrid, with something virulent in the air, but that simply couldn't be since the doctor was a total cleaning freak. You were pretty sure his office didn't have a spec of dust and all the items on his desk were in their specified places (and probably wiped clean with disinfectant.)

However, when you take a closer look at the balding doctor, you realized that it was **him** who was making you uncomfortable. For a fleeting moment you thought it was just the way he always acted, treating you so poorly, but as you observed him sign the documents, you could swear that there was something wrong with him, like there was something in him that made you want to cover your mouth to protect yourself from something foul, contagious and insidious. It was like the air around him was foul and contaminated...as if....as if...

Your eyes widen slightly due to the shock and terror that fills your heart and soul, leaving no room for other emotions. You had finally grasped the truth that had eluded you for the past few days. You quickly place a hand over your mouth, suddenly feeling violently ill, desiring nothing more than to run out of the office and somewhere where you could not feel its presence.

_This can't be real! It just can not! It is simply not possible. This has to be some drug induced hallucination and nothing more._

“Mmmh? What is with you now?” the doctor asks and squints his eyes ever so slightly, suddenly very suspicious of your behaviour and clearly thinking about calling in security and the other doctors, but you just stare at him with fearful look in your eyes.

_Is it the pestilence?_

“I...I just thought about that guard, sorry, I..I think I'm still in somewhat of a shock,” you lie and try to calm down but the dread persists in your eyes.

 _This is not real it just can't. I’ve suffered a trauma that has made me paranoid_ , you try to reason with yourself, despite knowing that this was not some imaginary thing and in fact very real. _I can't tell about this to anyone. They'll think I'm insane or infected with something. I'd never be able to leave._

“Hmpf, I see, well, you will go to see 049 now and after that remain inside the staff quarters until your transfer is ready. The investigation will be concluded and based on the results, we will either contain 049 indefinitely or try to terminate him.”

 _I don't want to see him, what did he do to me?_ , you think all distressed, but before you can protest or even say anything, a security guard steps into the room and the doctor tells him to escort you to the observation room.

To be honest, the escorting was more of pushing and dragging since your body suddenly felt so very stiff and numb, making walking rather hard and you almost trip over your own legs a couple of times.

Suddenly, you could sense the pestilence everywhere...in almost everyone you came across.

_I want out of this place._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest I kinda dislike the story now because I realized I had not read all the canon material about 049 before starting to write this. There are so many mistakes now! But maybe I can forgive myself this since I am not that deep in the SCP lore.
> 
> Anyway, the last chapter will focus on SCP-049 and the reader. This was mostly set up for it.


	4. The Cure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long with it. This is the longest chapter so there might some mistakes due to the length.

“Why did you kill the guard?”

The question echoes slightly from the cold metal walls of the room, but the plague doctor who is sitting at his desk doesn't seem to have any intention of answering the inquiry, choosing to ignored the agitated and annoyed researcher who kept pacing back and forth inside the observation room, growing more and more frustrated by the minute. “SCP-049, you will answer the question or there will be further restrictions to your allowances.”

What further restrictions? There weren't really any further restrictions the foundation could make. Maybe by putting a locking collar on him and binding him to one spot with restraints, but that was about it. The foundation had taken away his books, tools and doctor's bag, leaving the plague doctor only with his mind and a small piece of chalk the SCP used to write research notes about the cure on the dark surface of the metal desk. Truly, the insolence of those who were blind and in denial held no bounds.

There were shackles around his wrists, connected together by a slim, short chain. The only thing missing was that collar.

The masked SCP finally lifts his gaze from the desk and looks over his shoulder, staring at the researcher from the other side of the reinforced glass window. The look in the SCP's slightly narrowed eyes was cold, vexed and demeaning, probably giving the man his attention just to get rid of him as quickly as possible. He needed to think in peace.

The man was sick, just like the rest of them. The research site he had at first thought to be so clean with so little trace of the sickness, was in reality contaminated to its core, the pestilence spreading like wildfire among the staff.

No one answered to his inquiries about his assistant and when they'd return to help him in his work, so why should he answer them? These people were not men and women of science, not true professionals.

“Your ilk is not worth my time nor words...you are well aware of my reasons. My actions need no explanation. That man was sick and I cured him.. Time and time again I try to show and teach, yet you willingly remain blind to the truth,” the SCP replied quietly, holding nothing but contempt for the researcher who had taken away his medical journals. “You are not worth this argument. I see more clearly than ever that you and your foundation are waste of precious time and resources. I will not have my time wasted. The sick need my help, they need my cure.”

“And your “assistant” wasn't sick? We checked the camera feed. Your touch didn’t kill them! Though you did try to kill them afterwards,” the interviewer snapped, making the doctor actually stand up. He was agitated, breathing slightly frantically.

He usually paid no heed to mockery or the criticism of the uneducated, but he could not stand having his actions and work slandered like this, not in this matter.

“No, they were... _ **are**_ perfectly healthy, trying and putting the effort in understanding the pestilence that has been a curse upon the mankind for a life time. Admittedly, my assistant's progress is slow...but soon enough, they will see what ails so many of you. I..I know they will. My assistant will be most effective in helping me and thus, you as well....all of you.”

Just when the researcher was about to snap something back at the plague doctor, the observation room's door slides open.

Both the researcher and the plague doctor glance at the door to see you staggering inside the room with your escort closely behind you, poking and showing you forward with the stock of his shot gun, clearly vexed by your constant dawdling.

The tall and lanky researcher looked unamused when he saw you trying your best not to trip over your own legs that now felt so weak. One glance at you was enough to catch the expression of pure terror that persisted on your face and the anxiety that was evident in your eyes.

Still, he didn't have a shred of sympathy for you. In his opinion this whole mess had started thanks to you.

 _I can't stay here, I want out of this place now. What if he knows I can sense the sickness? This has to be just some awful nightmare, there is no such thing as a pestilence,_ you think in terror, the horrible thoughts and doubts looping endlessly inside your head, driving you to the brink of madness and feeding your growing fear and sense of utter helplessness. It truly felt like you no longer had any power or control left in your life, being whisked away by the wishes and wills of others. _Someone, please just let me leave._

“Well well well, if it isn't your “assistant”,” the smug researcher who seemed to get along well with the old doctor noted as you enter. Apparently they both shared dislike for you. “Speak of the devil and he shall appear.”

You can feel the cold, paralysing caress of dread when you see SCP-049 standing on the other side of the glass, looking slightly unstable, clearly agitated by whatever he had discussed with the researcher.

The man walks over to you with spiteful look in his cold grey eyes and mutters so quietly that the SCP can't hear.

“Get some answers out of SCP-049, he hasn't co-operated with the foundation at all during the time you were out cold. This investigation needs to be concluded as quickly as possible. No more resources will be wasted in this.”

 _He is sick,_ you realize, feeling slightly repulsed by the man's presence, wanting to step away from him to make sure you wouldn't catch the horrendous disease, but you resist the urge, knowing very well that you had to act as normal as possible if you wanted to get out of this nightmare.

You manage to nod and whisper small “ok, I...I'll try my best.”

The man rolls his eyes and steps aside much to your relief.

The plague doctor looks rather pleased to see you, though it was hard to tell with that mask covering his face.

“Ah, there you are my assistant, for a moment I wondered if death had claimed you,” he chuckles softly, almost in friendly manner as he eyes you from behind the glass. “Not that such thing would be a hindrance.”

You swallow and can feel your heart hammering almost painfully against your chest. Those words were clear indication that he would have reanimated you had you perished thanks to his “medication”. Death followed the plague doctor wherever he went and you didn't feel safe even with him locked in his containment.

 _I want to leave this facility now and be done with this work,_ you think anxiously and can feel your heart beat elevate when the doctor starts to approach the window, towering over you just like he had when you had first talked with him. _I want to undo 3 weeks worth of my life. Someone please tell me there is an SCP for that._

“How are you feeling? Have you noticed an improvement in your condition?” SCP-049 inquires calmly and politely, as if this was a normal meeting between a patient and a doctor.

You find yourself completely paralysed and unable to form any words. Your lips move slightly but no sound comes out. What could you say? The events loop inside your head over and over again. The containment room, the reek of blood and chemicals, the undead guard holding your head as the plague doctor forces you to drink the black liquid that made you feel nothing but agony, almost killing you.

Having the doctor talk so calmly to you after what he had done was eerie and terrifying and a part of you wanted to just dash out of the room and get out of the whole damn facility.

_What did you do to me?_

This never-ending nightmare, this very moment was the result of your foolish actions. The curiosity and compassion you had felt for the SCP-049 were the reason you now struggled to escape the horrible fate you just knew awaited you. Yet, despite wanting to avoid it, somehow you felt like it was too late already to change the course of your destiny that was bound to the Foundation and 049, that there was nothing you could do but helplessly watch how your fate would unravel itself.

However, before you can actually say anything to the plague doctor who inspects you with his eyes, the researcher butts in.

“Well enough considering you poisoned them, with rather inadequate results,” he answered the SCP's question for you and the entity glances at him with narrowed eyes. If looks could kill, the slender researcher would have been dead 10 times over.

“No, I medicated them, **good sir** ,” the plague doctor corrected the research, who was blind and in denial like so many others, sick but unable to realize it. It was a cruel judgement to suffer something as horrible as the great pestilence and not understand the nature of it. He'd correct that eventually. It wouldn't matter after he had gotten rid of the pestilence. “I will not have my trade slandered.”

You slowly shift your gaze to the greying researcher who looks clearly frustrated by your lack of ability to ask any questions, or maybe he simply was annoyed by how the SCP-049 seemed to treat you with much more respect than him.

A shiver runs down your spine and you feel uneasy as you eye him. It was like there was an aura of something foul around the man. You couldn't see it, but you could sense it so well...its insidious presence slowly spreading and radiating off of him, making you anxious.

A look of worry, fear and despair crosses your face as you look at him, wanting to understand what was happening to you. This does not go unnoticed by the plague doctor and you quickly get his undivided attention. It is as if he completely forgets about the man's existence.

You turn to see how he stares at you, reading and studying even the slightest change in your expression. Then, the realization finally dawns upon him.

“You can finally see, can you not?”

The question lingers in the air and it suddenly becomes deathly silent inside the room. One could hear pin dropping to the floor. Those words sink into your soul, causing pure, primal panic to overwhelm your heart and mind. It was truly a miracle you didn't faint. After everything you had witnessed and endured with the plague doctor, all you now wanted was this to end and to quit your work at the site, to not be pulled any deeper.

049 eyes you up and down in calculatingly, his fingers tapping the glass a couple of times.

“You can finally understand the pestilence that afflicts mankind. This is most fortunate news,” the SCP continued, sounding rather pleased and even slightly excited. “This will greatly help my effort in getting rid of the affliction.”

“What is SCP-049 talking about?” the researcher demands to know and somehow, you truly don't know how, you managed to look genuinely baffled, enough to fool almost anyone....almost. You couldn't let this continue.

_I don't want any more tests. I've had enough with needles, drugs and interrogations. I just want to leave this place for good._

“I...I have no idea. I really do not,” you whisper, wanting to back away from the glass and the plague doctor, but you find yourself unable to do so. Your legs simply refuse to move.

The researcher eyes you suspiciously with slightly narrowed eyes for a moment, only to glance at SCP-049 and shake his head disapprovingly, finding this whole ordeal just absurd.

You can't help but wonder how someone as close minded as him got hired as a researcher, but you couldn't complain right now. His ignorance was your ticket out of this.

What little warmth the plague doctor's eyes had held for you was drained away and replaced by disapproval and disgust as he stared at you, growing more agitated each passing second. You were petrified.

He knew you were lying.

“You've tried so hard to study and understand the pestilence, only to lose courage and deny the truth when you are finally blessed with knowledge?” the SCP asks, gaze locked with yours and you are too terrified to look away. He was seething.

 _Understand? I still can't understand anything. I can sense it, but what is it?_ Sure, you could swear it now existed, but...you weren't any closer to understanding or grasping the nature of the this horrendous disease. It just existed.

“Unacceptable…You’d close your eyes to the suffering of those afflicted and let the pestilence spread, refusing to do anything about it?” 049 continued. “This insidious disease must be eradicated. It cannot be allowed to fester and grow. There is no room for fear or hesitation nor emotion. As a person of science you should know this to be true.”

“I...” you start but can't come up with anything to say.

The researcher sighs in annoyance, once again seeing the conversation devolve into the SCP only talking about the pestilence. He saw no merit in continuing this conversation, even if you had barely said anything

“Security, remove the assistant, this is clearly going nowhere,” he snapped, but before the guard can drag your petrified form out of the room, the doctor turns agitated and hostile, trying his shackles. He actually slammed his hands against the glass window, the sound stunning the three of you.

You look into the plague doctor's eyes, his masked face so close to your's with only the cold, reinforced glass between the two of you. He tapped the glass right where your forehead was, the eerie sound echoing from the empty walls of the containment room.

“I will not let the insight you've achieved go to waste. I’ve spent a lifetime working on the cure...and if necessary, will spend few life times more. There is still so much we can learn and still so many to be cured. The only thing that matters is the great pestilence.”

You can't even tear your gaze away when the guard grabs your arm into a vice like grip and starts pulling you towards the door.

Somehow, you had a feeling it was your lifetime he was talking about.

After the security had dragged you away, the researcher and SCP were left in the 2 separate rooms and the plague doctor finally turned his attention to the man he saw as sick.

“I expect to be able to resume my research with my assistant as soon as possible, there is much work to be done. As foolish and scared of the pestilence as they might be, the research must continue until I've created the perfect cure. They'll understand eventually and overcome their fear, I am certain of this,” 049 said all calmly now, making the researcher give him a somewhat mocking smile, as if the plague doctor was insane.

Oh how he hated the humanoid ones and the ones that could talk.

“Well, I’m truly sad to say that they will spend the rest of their short career going through files in some mouldy, dust covered archive,” the researcher said in mocking tone. ”As for you SCP-049, you will be contained here indefinitely. You will never see your “assistant” ever again.”

The SCP 049 felt nothing but cold rage and disgust towards the man that was afflicted by the pestilence, yet like the rest of them, he was helplessly unaware of it. He needed to be cured, they _**all**_ needed to be cured.

His scared assistant’s skills and new insight couldn’t go to waste. No no no...there was too much work to be done to let something as meaningless as fear come in its way. As betrayed as he felt by your actions and lies, he was above petty revenge. No, he understood very well that the sickness could be very frightening and intimidating, but they were something you'd overcome eventually. He'd have your assistance, no matter what.

049 let out a soft chuckle as he stared coldly at the researcher. Nothing could keep him from his work.

“Well then...I better do something about it.”

The tall lanky man just scoffs and heads for the door.

“What could you possibly do? Nothing.”

* * *

 

Few rather uneventful days pass and your transfer to another site was finally upon you. Tomorrow, you'd at last be able to leave this god damn research site you had come to loathe and fear.

After the last encounter with the plague doctor you had been escorted to an interview room for even more questioning since the entity had been adamant about you being able to see the pestilence, but you had managed to convince everyone that it was not so, after all there was nothing wrong with you. While few of the doctors had given you long and suspicious looks, clearly not sure whether you were speaking the truth or not, the medical records supported your tale. There wasn't anything anomalous about you.

The investigation had been concluded and you had been left to wait for your transfer. All your rights had been either revoked or put on hold. Your clearance card only allowed you to roam within the staff quarters deep inside the facility.

Yet, though the investigation was concluded and your transfer set in stone, you still couldn't fully escape the plague doctor who seemed to haunt your every waking moment. If being tormented by the traumatic memories while awake wasn't bad enough, you dreams were filled with nightmares of SCP-049.

Sleeping was starting to become impossible and you had to constantly rely on sleeping pills, but even they couldn't shield your mind from the terrors you witnessed during night.

To be honest, the staff was starting to get fed up with your constant whimpering and thrashing while asleep, along with the screams you let out each time you woke up.

Each night, you dreamt of 049 and each night, your nightmare ended up in your death.

 

_Your soft steps echo from the empty walls of the research site as you slowly make your way through the maze of dark and eerie corridors that twist and turn in an unnatural manner, and though you didn't come across any stairs or lifts, somehow you just knew the endless pathways led you slowly downwards, deeper and deeper into the abyss of the lower levels where your destination lied._

“ _Hello?” you ask quietly, but are greeted only by your own eerie echo as you look around yourself, slowly realizing that you were in fact heading towards the tall plague doctor's containment unit. “No, I can't. It is over,” you whisper and try to halt your movements, only to find yourself unable to do so. Your feet keep carrying you towards your destination and it was as if there was some unknown force pulling you in, one that you weren't strong enough to escape, no matter how much you fought._

_Suddenly, you can see figures emerging from the pitch black shadows, heading into the opposite direction. You could see the doctor you hated, the researcher, the security guard and some of your co workers...all of them cured by the doctor, even the dog was there._

_You can't breathe, feeling the cruel, painful and freezing touch of dread you had come to know so intimately lately._

_However, the 02 instances pay you no attention as you walk deeper and deeper, searching for for the doctor. Soon enough, it almost feels like you are struggling against a sea of walking corpses, trying to get past them towards the containment unit, as if you belonged there._

_After what had felt like a life time, the flood of walking dead ceases and you find yourself standing before the containment unit's door that silently slides open before you can even touch its cold metal surface. Inside, you see the plague doctor, surrounded by countless corpses. So much work._

“ _Ah, there you are...I was expecting you, come now, these patients are waiting for you.”_

_Some unknown force pulls you inside the containment and the door slams close, never to be opened again. The reek of blood was nauseating and you find yourself standing ankles deep in it._

_You couldn't do this, you weren't an assistant, you couldn't understand any of this. It all still eluded you._

“ _I don't...I am not,” you try to whisper but go silent when the masked SCP towers over you. “I can't do this because I can't understand.”_

“ _You've been blessed with knowledge, with the ability to sense the pestilence...I will not let that mind go to waste,” the doctor says calmly, his voice so reassuring and firm. “Given time and the right medication, you'll improve.”_

_He reaches towards you, taking your face into his blood soaked hands. They are so very cold...but the sensation lasts only a second before it is pushed aside by something else._

_Pain, searing, horrible, agonizing and mind breaking pain takes over your whole body and you scream in anguish, or would have if any noise came out. Agony was all you could feel...it made you want to just cease to exist, to never have been born to begin with._

_However, the pain quickly ceases when you find yourself no longer inhabiting your body, no, you are floating in the darkness, watching from the outside and frozen in space._

_All you can do is watch helplessly as your body is destroyed before your very eyes._

_Your skin slowly melts away along with the flesh underneath it. Your organs and innards liquefy slowly and run down your bones to join the pool of blood underneath you. Eventually even your strong bones start to lose their form, crumbling into pieces and dust, lost in the sea of blood that was now vast and bottomless._

_You were completely helpless to change or prevent your fate. Decay and death would always find you._

_Soon enough, only your skull remains in the doctor's hands, pristine white and pure._

_The last thing you see before you wake up, is how the plague doctor brings the skull closer, pressing his mask against it in what you could only describe as morbid affection._

 

Naturally, you had woken up screaming your lungs out, your voice very loud and audible in the waking world. It had been loud enough to wake 3 rooms worth of people up. You were pretty sure everyone was now waiting for your transfer.

“Damn nightmares....” you mutter quietly as you pack your meager belonging from your metal locker into your bag, feeling so very tired. You were relieved that this whole experiment was over and that you had made it out alive, even if a good man had lost his life. His body had been incinerated with nothing left behind. His family would never learn what had truly happened to him and it was almost too painful to think about.

You cannot help but ponder about your own family. What would they hear if something was to happen to you? The Foundation was very effective at covering up things and destroying evidence. Most likely your family wouldn't even get your body back...the guard's family certainly had not. Hell, they hadn't even gotten his ashes...

“I’m sorry,” you mutter quietly, feeling somewhat miserable. Somehow it just felt like you were responsible for his death...even if you knew that it was not so.

You glance at the file of dossiers of the facility’s SCPs inside your locker with 049’s file on top. You’d never forget his touch that had felt so cold and uncomfortable, nor his last words to you that had been so foreboding. The faster you got out of this facility, the better.

 _What should I do?_ you wonder as you stare at your staff card. You had managed to keep your horrible little secret, but each passing day it grew heavier, making you want to just tell someone, to ask for help and tell how utterly terrified and helpless you felt.

“You can't tell anyone and you know it,” you remind yourself and can feel your heart beat start to elevate due to anxiety. It was all hopeless. “I'd never leave this place.”

You cling hopelessly onto the possibility that whatever this was would just fade away and that everything would return to normal. Being around those who were clearly afflicted by the pestilence was maddening and acting normal started to really drain you emotionally and physically. The fear of catching the unknown disease was slowly driving you insane and lately you had found it nearly impossible to mingle with others. You could sense the pestilence's presence even when you were alone, if only faintly.

To be honest, you were more than glad to get out of the facility and end up in some dusty archive with as few people as possible around you. Tomorrow's transfer couldn't come fast enough.

“Is there really such a thing as the Great pestilence?” you wonder out loud, anxious and worried. “It simply cannot be real...this has to fade away in few months, it just has to. There is no way this can linger with me.”

_Because if it does, I don't know what I'll do._

The main reason you wished, nay, prayed for your newfound gift to just fade away was the call you had made with your family few days back. You simply had to hear their voices, to know that they at least were alright.

 

“ _Please, just answer... you mutter quietly as you listen to the beeps. Fearing that you'd be rejected._

_You had left on such a bad terms with everyone, following your dreams while your family had thought it to be suspicious and risky, after all you had not been able tell them anything. You simply had to keep them in the dark._

_Finally, your mother answers the call and you can feel your heart skip a beat._

“ _Hello?”_

_Whatever grudge or bad blood had existed just eroded away the moment your mother heard your voice. She was overjoyed and sounded very emotional, lifting your spirit a bit._

_Your mother is quick to apologize for your family's harsh reaction and words, but you tell her that it was all ok. They had your best interest in mind and it was natural to worry about a job you had not been able to tell much about...job you now greatly regretted._

_However as the call continues, she quickly that something was clearly wrong and upsetting you._

“ _Is everything alright with the new job? I know you can't talk about the work with me, but please tell me if something is wrong. You know you are always welcome here. We are sorry we didn't understand how important this was for you.”_

_You sit in the corner of the empty room, holding the cellphone to your ear with a trembling hand. It was very late already and no one came here anyway. You can feel tears forming in your eyes and you can't help but sob._

_You were so tired both physically and emotionally, scared and utterly powerless._

“ _C..could I come back home in few months? I screwed up things so bad and I don't know how to fix this.”_

“ _Of course, you are always welcome here, no matter what. ”_

_You inhale deeply and try not to start crying and weeping loudly in the empty room, potentially attracting security who'd just think it was some escaped SCP._

“ _Ok,” you say, sniffling slightly before cutting the call, unable to fight the tears any longer._

_'Just please...don't be sick."_

 

The memory fades away and you are pulled back into the present when you hear a faint sound of the alarm.

“Huh?” you let out and turn to wards the door and after a moment of confusion, you can hear panicked voices and running steps coming from the corridors, sounds that quickly grow louder as more and more people start to panic.

“What is going on?” you ask, only for the automatic alarm system to answer your question.

“Alarm, alarm, containment breach in research sector 2...all personnel evacuate immediately. Breach in SCP chambers…”

You freeze. A containment breach...there was a containment breach! The worst case scenario you had dreaded ever since starting working for the foundation. Panic starts to take hold of you as well, but you try to calm yourself down to listen to the chamber numbers the automatic voice starts to list. You needed information because it was a key to survival with these entities.

Surely this is just something small, one inanimate euclid on loose or misuse of some safe class one, you think, but as you listen to the list that keeps going, you quickly realize that this is very serious. Extremely so.

Most escaped ones were safe or euclid class SCPs, inanimate, easily contained and not dangerous if the protocols were followed. But then the list turned much grimmer. ”106,” “939” as if those weren't bad and deadly enough, you hear the one number you dreaded the most, the one that made terror grip your heart, its cold talons sinking into your very soul.

“049”.

“No, this can't be...this has to be just another nightmare,” you whisper in denial, wondering if you grasp on reality had finally started to blur, but alas, you have no other choice but to accept that you were awake.

The doctor was roaming the facility unrestricted and would definitely get his hands on all the needed key-cards to leave.

You had no idea whether there had been a malfunction in the system or the protocol was once more broken, but right now that information held no value to it. The only thing that really mattered was the fact that a number of SCP’s were out and every minute that passed, the more dangerous and deadly the facility was becoming. You can hear the first screams of terror and pain in the distance and your heart starts to race.

You forget your bag, grabbing only your low level key-card before dashing into the corridor to join the numerous panicking staff members who hurried into different directions. You quickly make your way to the nearest monitoring room that had been abandoned to get some idea what paths you shouldn’t take.

When you take a look at the screens, you instantly see the teddy bear SCP on one of the cameras, along with a number of other SCP’s you were familiar with.

“Where are you?” you mutter in panic as you go through the screens, trying to catch a glimpse of the plague doctor. Then, you finally see him on one of the monitors.

SCP-049 was making his way slowly through the corridors, having already turned few personnel into 049-2 instances who followed him. Your eyes widen slightly due to the shock and petrifying dread overwhelms you when you realize that he isn’t that far away from your position. It was almost as if he was looking for something, or someone. A part of you just wanted to hide somewhere, but it would be useless...only death awaited those who didn't act.

_I have to find a higher level key-card and get out of this place now._

“No,” you whisper in fear, slowly backing away from the monitors when you see the doctor touch one of your colleagues who had hurt her leg and was unable to get up, killing her in an instant. However, instead of starting to work on the corpse, he left it for his recently created assistants to take away somewhere. They could help him only so much. . He needed his still living assistant who could sense pestilence, even if just weakly.

You finally turn around and dash back into the corridors that were now empty. The staff quarters were in a separate part of the facility complex that was deep underground, the exit far away and behind doors you didn’t have access rights to.

…

Pure, uncontrollable panic starts to truly overwhelm your heart, mind and soul as you run through the maze of endless corridors, dodging and finding alternative routes when you come across an SCPs you know you should avoid or a door you don't' have access to. The more minutes passed, the more corpses and traces of blood you see.

“Why is everyone so stupid?!” you ask, feeling nothing but despair as you try to find a way out while trying to stay alive.

Orientation classes were still fresh in your mind and you had taken time to learn about the SCP’s held inside the facility. So many had died a stupid, meaningless death because they didn’t know the “rules”.

“I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die,” you whisper breathlessly, repeating the words like a mantra as you scramble your way through the bloody and dark corridors, trying to find a key-card that could allow you to leave. More and more systems were malfunctioning around you and you were running out of time. Was SCP-079 in the facility's system? That could explain a lot.

You saw so many SCP-049-2 instances. It was like they were herding people and soon enough, you started to get disoriented with all the corridors starting to look the same. You no longer had any idea where you were and which way to go.

This all started to really feel more and more like one of your repeating nightmares that led to your death.

 _Maybe this really is all just a dream_? You wonder, only to banish such a laughable wish. Your steps come to a sudden halt when you see few 049-2 instances heading your way and you quickly turn around.

You take a sharp turn and make it to a door, frantically panting and looking around you as you swipe your card through the reader for the door to open, heading inside the dark room without looking where you were going.

The few steps you manage to take make you realize how the floor feels oddly sticky. The moment you glance down, you slip on a bloody piece of organ that lied there. A small scream of terror and surprise escapes your lips when you lose your balance and find yourself falling forward, hitting the cold, sticky but still very solid floor painfully hard.

All air is knocked out of your lungs upon an impact and you end up gasping and writhing in pain on the floor that was covered in blood, pieces of flesh and God knows what organs...

The light flickers in the dark and much to your horror, you see countless corpses spread over the floor and each other. You recognized most of them, researchers, janitors and security, all dead with their heads bashed in with brute force or without any visible injury whatsoever, yet each and every one of them had a look of despair and fear lingering on their lifeless faces.

Some of the corpses suddenly move and you quickly realize that they were in fact 049-2 instances. For a fleeting moment, you expect them to turn and attack you, adding your corpse to the pile, but they pay you no mind, as if ordered not to hurt you.

“Ah...there you are, I was looking for you. Unfortunately I grew distracted by all these sick people,” you hear the familiar, gentle, calm and graceful voice say from the shadows. “I simply couldn’t leave them all to suffer and spread the affliction. As unfortunate as it may be, I fear the pestilence has spread to this whole facility.”

You can’t move, hell you can barely breathe as you gaze into the pitch black shadows.

“We have much work to do, you and I,” SCP-049 says as he emerges from the darkness into the light of the flickering cold fluorescent lights, his black robes already drenched in blood. “So many to cure...so much research to be done.”

“No..” you whisper in terror, your heart racing and mind becoming a muddled mess thanks to the primal fear that had taken over every cell in your body.

“I can not let your potential go to waste. Come now, there is no room for fear, the sick need our help.”

As the plague doctor starts slowly approaching you, hand raised, the survival instinct snaps you out of the paralysed state you were in. You spot the asshole of a doctor who seemed to hate your guts among the corpses and you know he has a high clearance card...perhaps even high enough to get out of here.

You crawl over the researcher's bloody corpse to the doctor, feverishly going through his pockets, hands trembling as you try to find the card, knowing you had only few seconds to spare.

“What are you doing?” the tall black robed SCP asks you, so very close now. “The pestilence cannot be allowed to spread, it must be eradicated. You know this to be true.”

You almost cry out hopelessly when your blood coated hands finally find the key-card, holding it close to your chest before stumbling up and towards the door your had entered. You barely avoid the plague doctor who almost managed to grab your arm.

“Do not be afraid...” you can hear the SCP-049 say as he starts following you as you desperately try to find the exit. “I am the cure.”

You run through the now completely empty corridors where life had ceased to exist. The walls were painted red and the few lights that still worked were flickering, making the whole facility look nightmarish.

Relief washes over your soul when you make it to a door that leads to an exist. There was a glass window, a door and a card reader next to it. That door would finally allow you to leave this nightmare.

You hurry to the door but can hear faint footsteps approaching the room. You knew you were running out of time and quickly swipe the card through the reader, only to get a message

“error, unable to read the card…”

With trembling hands you desperately swipe the magnetic stripe on your coat to clean the card that had been painted red by the blood. You were completely exhausted, using the last of your strength to try and escape this hell.

You swipe the card again through the reader, praying and pleading that it would open, but the only reply you get is.

“ **Access denied, clearance level insufficient.”**

You felt something inside you die.

“No no no, please no,” you whisper in pure desperation, swiping the card rapidly through the reader again, laughably hoping that the same action would provide a different result.

 **Access denied**.

You swipe it through the reader again.

 **Access denied**.

Again.

**Access denied.**

And again.

 **Access denied**.

But the result doesn’t change.

Your trembling and shaking hands lose their grip on the card and it falls down onto the floor, bouncing a couple of times before remaining there. Tears run down your face and you bring your hand up to try to wipe them away, only to realize you had smeared your face with the doctor's blood.

You couldn't endure this any more.

“Please someone let me out!” you finally scream, slamming your hand against the glass window repeatedly, your actions now fuelled by the soul shattering panic and despair, however, your energy quickly fades away as you realize how futile it all is.

There was no escape.

“I want out,” you cry and press your face against the cool reinforced glass, sobbing slightly. “Someone please...”

The sound of the soft footsteps grows louder by the second and you finally turn your gaze towards the door to see SCP-049 emerge from the shadowy doorway. His eyes were fixated on yours as he starts to slowly approach you. There was no need to hurry.

You catch movement in the corner of your eye and see people hurrying towards the exit on the other side of the door. Glimmer of hope lights inside your soul and you start to frantically hit the reinforced glass with your blood stained hand that leaves bloody hand prints all over it.

“Help! I’m locked in here!!” you yell and try to get the escapees’ attention. One of the survivors actually notices you, but when she takes a look at your blood covered clothes and hands, she quickly turns away and continues her journey, probably thinking you to be injured and bleeding out. Surely there was nothing she could do to help you.

“Please. Don't leave me here….I don’t want to die,” you plead, nails pressed against the glass as tears trail down your face. “I don’t want to be brought back like them. Don't go...I beg of you.”

“Do not ask for the sick to help you. They cannot,” the plague doctor says calmly, towering over you, his eyes fixated on yours. “You are the one who can help them, one who can help me cure every last one of them. It is a cruel judgement to suffer a disease they can not understand, refusing my help in their short sightedness,” the entity murmurs gently and you can countless 02 instances enter the hall, their number great enough to overwhelm a small task force. “They scuttle away like rats, spreading the pestilence. In time, you will understand it completely, I am certain of it. What I offer, is mercy. You know this to be true, after all, you can see it.”

“Are you going to...cure me?” you ask, voice barely more than a whisper. You are not sure what to feel when the doctor shakes his head. Cured...not cured, either way, what awaited you was probably worse than death.

“Goodness no, you are perfectly healthy...But not to worry, should you fall ill, I’ll rid you of the affliction,” he says and pulls something from his pocket. “You are clearly exhausted, the presence of pestilence has clearly drained you. All I describe you right now, is a good, long rest,” he says and to your horror you can see SCP-714, the jade ring, in his hand. If he put it on your finger, you might never wake up.

Despair and paralysing fear is all you can feel as he reaches towards you, taking hold of your hand. You are too weak and exhausted to fight or run any more. There was nowhere you could go. For a fleeting second, you almost yearn for the oblivion to embrace you, but nothing happens.

“We will continue our work elsewhere, this facility has been purged of the pestilence,” he says, pushing the jade ring into your finger.

It barely takes few seconds for the SCP's effect to take hold of you thanks to the exhaustion. You find yourself leaning against the wall, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep. Even thinking started to become draining and though you consider trying to take the ring off, even that felt too tiring.

Your legs lose their strength and you slowly slide down to sit on the cold floor, struggling to keep your eyes open. Would you ever wake up if you closed them now?

It was hopeless, utterly hopeless. You'd never see your friends or loved ones again...nor be able to return back home. Your fate was bound to 049.

The doctor crouches down before you, his eyes studying you from behind that white mask.

“Rest now, we have much work to do,” he says as you finally close your eyes, allowing the sleep take hold of you.

The last thing you can hear is his soft chuckle as your mind drifts off to the world of dreams.

“We will start your medication when you wake up."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this had end credits, the song would be  
> "Dr.Wanna do" by Caro Emerald.
> 
> It is just so upbeat compared to the ending :D
> 
> I should have not read Steins:Gate or watched horror movies while writing this. This is just awful...
> 
> I decided to add the family to make the stakes a bit higher, but it seems unnecessary now.
> 
> Also, I can't believe I finished this! Probably won't write an epilogue to keep things mysterious. Thanks for reading! I will probably keep this as my only SCP fanfic.


End file.
